Bedrest and Body Art
by Dream Wreaver
Summary: Despite its appeal for mass market consumption, she mused, waking up in bed with one's boss could never be anything less than an awkward encounter


Cross posted from AO3, I need to get better at posting things on the same day. Either way, enjoy!

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When Nathalie usually woke up it was to the blare of the alarm, either from her phone or the alarm clock which she still used. Through bleary eyes she would grab at the device to silence it and then look at her messages. Leave it to good old blue light to make it impossible to go back to sleep. After that she would go about getting ready for her day; showering, getting dressed, grabbing something to eat. The usual fare. Then she would make sure her makeup wasn't stained by any smears or crumbs, check that her bun was secure, and triple check that any important documents she might have brought home with her were still there and safely in her bag before heading out.

Today was not like those other days. For starters, she felt more languid than usual. Better rested, which was odd, considering that working for Gabriel Agreste usually meant burning the candle at both ends. Second, this bed was infinitely more comfortable than her own -and considering how much luxury her salary was affording her that was saying something. Third, the sheets she was under had to be a silk-cotton blend, as they slipped against her skin in ways that her own plain cotton ones did not. And fourth, the bed she was occupying was not one she was alone in.

She had been aware of the presence of the second person from the moment she had regained lucidity. And yet, some aspects of what had happened eluded her. Considering she had very little current memory of how she had ended up in an unfamiliar bed the best conclusion she could draw right now was that she had gone out drinking and went home with someone last night. At least, that was the assumption she had until she recalled that the broad, bare chest she was firmly curled against had a face attached to it.

When she looked up, the memories from the previous day came and Nathalie wanted to scream from mortification. Despite its appeal for mass market consumption, she mused, waking up in bed with one's boss could never be anything less than an awkward encounter. Made even more awkward by the fact that neither of them were wearing any clothes. From the waist up at least, Nathalie's position didn't allow her to lift the covers and check otherwise, and she wasn't even certain she wanted to know.

Though logically, nothing as incriminating as the present circumstances made it appear had happened.

MLB

Her boss, despite her warnings to be a bit more selective when picking a champion for his needs, had decided to akumatize a miserable child forced to bed by a nasty cold. The resulting akuma, Germinator, had been able to target individuals with wadded up tissue bombs, or as what had happened when they had apparently gotten fed up with the superheroes of Paris, sent out a city wide shock wave of sickness, affecting every living thing in its path. Though the symptoms varied from person to person, not even the miraculous holders were immune. Gabriel had had to drop his concentration he felt so bad. And the call to her- dealing with her own symptoms- had come through as weak and miserable as an infant.

Considering she herself was sick- indeed there was probably no one left in Paris who wasn't- Nathalie hadn't really figured she'd be able to help him. Especially not when she was sweltering from fever. Her face was flushed and sweat began to drip. She was burning up inside, and her clothes were more hindrances than helpers. Her jacket had been discarded over her chair as she went to assist her boss. He was in front of the portrait of his wife which held all his secrets, curled up into a ball on his side and trembling like a leaf. His face was also covered in a sheen of sweat, but unlike Nathalie he was suffering cold-sweats. There was perhaps some poetic irony in that, him who had been known as a cold-hearted bastard now suffering from a similar affliction that he couldn't handle. Regardless, the symptoms were drenching his clothes, as was the dirt and dust on the floor that inevitably gathered in his workspace when he created.

Considering the call had come through her intercom, Nathalie could deduce he still had the strength to stand, if only for short intervals at a time. She felt her own strength waning and she slumped down beside him, panting through the heat and exertion the ten foot walk that was normally second nature to her.

"Sir," her voice sounded weak and labored, "We need…" with this blasted cold spreading through her system she felt drowsy and unable to think clearly. Her head was stuffed trying to regulate her system and left very little room for coherent thought, much less the ability to communicate said thoughts, "We need to… get some… some…" now what was it that she had been about to say?

"What was that Nathalie?" he managed to ask her through his chattering teeth.

Nathalie ran a hand through her sweat-soaked bangs, trying to remember what her next thought had been. They needed to recuperate, at least until Ladybug and Chat Noir cleansed the akuma and everything could be restored to normal. But everyone was too weak to do the normal things one would do for the ill. The kitchen was out of the question, as was getting some medication. They didn't have any strength, their immune systems were failing them because the colds were amplified by magic. What was the next best thing to do when someone was sick? Rest.

"Bed," she managed to spit out, "We need to get to bed."

Even through his shaking Gabriel managed a nod, "Right, there's a guest bedroom close by. We should-" he managed to roll over and brace himself up on hands and knees, "I don't think I can stand on my own."

"Neither can I," Nathalie replied even as she kicked off her shoes hoping to get some relief from the heat.

The respective fevers were dazing them out of their normal personalities, because Gabriel didn't even seem to care that she was leaving pieces of her outfit in his workspace. Nathalie crawled over to where her boss was struggling to lift himself and helped him sit up. They grabbed ahold of each other and used the leverage between them as a way to maneuver themselves onto their feet. Constantly leaning against one another for support they managed to find a room with a huge bed. Excess, thy name was Agreste. But in this instance it was a good thing, as she didn't have the strength to track down a room of her own.

Nathalie knew through one of her last working logic cells that Gabriel shouldn't stay in the dirty and soaked clothing, it wouldn't help him retain his body heat and get his temperature back to normal.

"Take, off," she tugged at his jacket trying to get her meaning across. Somehow he seemed to understand and began disrobing. The fever was skyrocketing through Nathalie's veins and before she was conscious of what was going on her pants and shirt had been discarded and haphazardly thrown across the room.

"What are you-" Gabriel swayed as he attempted to ask her.

"It's too hot!" Nathalie whined as she sat there in nothing but her bra and panties. The fever induced flush that spread along the exposed skin proved her point perfectly, "I'm trying to cool down!"

Gabriel's eyes were glassy, as he rocked back and forth in his own state of undress, "Get under the covers," he ordered her, "You need to lie down,"

"So do you," she pointed out. But she took the hairpins out of her hair so that it wouldn't snag while she rested and set them down on one of the bedside tables along with her glasses. Then she buried herself under the premade covers. A few moments later, Gabriel joined her.

For the sake of professionalism, Nathalie wore underwire bras to keep unnecessary bouncing to a minimum. But the thing about underwires was that they were incredibly uncomfortable in any position that did not allow them to do their job, which included lying down. Still sweating, especially under the covers of the bed, Nathalie decided to do away with it. It was useless and uncomfortable right now, and wouldn't do her any good. Besides, it wasn't as if anyone was going to be able to see her like this, not when they were all sick.

Even with the least amount of clothing on Nathalie couldn't cool down at all. She tossed and turned until her hand hit something cool. Instantly seeking out the relief that came with the transfer of heat Nathalie moved closer. The cold moved closer too. It was kind of clammy to the touch but so long as Nathalie could cool down she didn't so much care. The fever finally starting to abate exhaustion overtook her. Nathalie snuggled closer and fell asleep.

MLB

And that was how she found herself in this predicament now. Curled up against one of the tycoons of the fashion industry, her boss, and also a married man with very little clothing on. The Miraculous cure had thankfully come and taken away the colds, but the languidness from finally being well-rested for a change would not go away so easily. Of course, her mind was wide awake and racing, especially as she began to take stock of where her extremities were. Her arms were curled into themselves as she was snuggled against Gabriel's chest. Her hands could draw patterns against the flesh but simply rested their backs against it. Her head was pillowed on his shoulder, which shouldn't have made sense, and yet was still quite comfortable. The problem she found, was with her legs.

Ever since childhood Nathalie had had a rather stranger quirk. Her legs, when sleeping, had to wrap around something. When she had shared a bed with her siblings every morning found them trapped with Nathalie clinging to them like a vine, a leg slung over their body. It hadn't gone away as the years passed, and even now Nathalie found trying to sleep without anything left her restless and uncomfortable. She had a special pillow for most of her nights, and the few times she ended up sharing a bed with a partner they never seemed to question it, even if they likely did think it odd. And now, the problem was manifesting itself once again, Nathalie's legs were wrapped tight around one of Gabriel's own, even crossed to make it more difficult to extricate.

Mortified beyond belief Nathalie instructed her legs to move. But they didn't obey. She was stuck, considering the tight grip her employer had with the arm that was wrapped around er back. The only way that this could have possibly gotten worse was if he were to have woken up. As though thinking it wrought it, his even breathing began to quicken, just the tiniest bit. Enough to signal he was returning to the waking work. Childishly, Nathalie slammed her own eyes shut, hoping beyond hope that he would believe her still unconscious and they could delay the inevitable awkwardness for just a bit longer.

Alas, it was not to be. The minute he saw her he said her name, "Nathalie?"

Her eyes opened, and as blurry as everything seemed without her glasses Gabriel's face was in sharp focus, "Sir?"

He was aware, if not outwardly unaffected, by their positions, "Care to tell me what happened?"

"You should choose your champions with more care sir," Nathalie didn't waste a moment to admonish him for his own hand in this, "Germinator ended up infecting everyone across the city, including you and I, remember?"

"I- yes, actually I do remember that," He answered, "What I _don't_ remember was how we ended up _here_."

"The symptoms of the infection were different for everyone sir," Nathalie explained, "You came down with a low-grade fever, and I came down with a high one. You had cold sweats, and I was just sweating. We were too weak to do anything other than sleep, but our clothes were both drenched. We were separate when we got into bed, I remember that much. However, considering the position we're in now I would hazard to guess that we sought each other out, you for warmth and I for cold."

"I see," strangely enough, he made no move to get her out of his hold. Nathalie couldn't tell if that was intentional on his part or not. His fingers brushed along her spine, in an almost absent-minded manner. Or it could have been a way for him to test the waters and see how she would react.

"Sir do you know what time it is?" Nathalie asked, realizing all her own time keeping pieces had been left behind during the mindlessness of the akuma induced fever. She said nothing of how his fingers continued to doodle meaningless patterns over her skin, nor did she attempt to wiggle out of his grasp. Let him figure it out.

Gabriel looked to his other hand, where his wristwatch normally lay. He didn't see it. Well, he didn't see much of anything considering that he no longer had his glasses on. With a resigned sigh the free hand reached for them on the other night table and slipped them onto his face. Vision restored it brought a certain sense of clarity back to him. But though his mind was aware that this was highly inappropriate behavior his hand refused to cease its motions. The wristwatch on the nightstand proclaimed the day to be a bust for corporate work, any minute now the sun would begin its descent into the horizon and make way for night to come.

"It's late, too late to accomplish anything more for today. Tell me Nathalie, how far will today's incident set us back?"

"We were actually ahead of schedule sir," Nathalie replied running over all the document due dates she could recall through her head. "Today's accident should only have pushed us back to where we needed to be. Unless there were any other urgent interruptions whilst we were incapacitated, we're still more or less on top of things."

"Good, excellent," work jargon seemed to finally get the message to his limbs that what had happened was a mistake, something that had occurred when neither were in full control of their senses. Nathalie was a professional, she wouldn't let something so simple as an Akuma's spell break her composure. He dropped his hand and simultaneously Nathalie began to rise, taking one of the sheets with her. He felt her legs disentangle from around his and she turned to the side. But as she got up his fingertips brushed something rough against the otherwise soft skin of her back, "What's that?" he asked aloud.

"What's what sir?"

"I felt something rough, Nathalie were you injured in any way earlier?"

Her inscrutable expression was perhaps a bit more effective when she had her glasses to act as another barrier. As it was though it was still pretty intimidating, and were he anyone else he might have quaked. But he was Gabriel Agreste, and he did whatever he damn well pleased. If he wanted to know what had happened, she would tell him.

She broke, "I was not sir," she said, gathering a sheet to her chest as she stood off the bed, "You likely felt my tattoo."

"You have a tattoo?"

"A memento from when I was an immature child," she replied, "I assure you I'm past such frivolous notions now. Even so, I still got it put in a practical place. Near my right hip on my back."

"And what did you get put in such a practical place?" he noticed that there were two types people who got body art, those who thought the piece they wanted through and those who did not. Practical place or no if it was a poor choice then it was a poor choice all around.

"It doesn't matter sir," Nathalie evaded, "It's easily covered by normal clothing. It would never have an impact on the brand."

Now he wanted to know what it was all the more, "Let me see the image Nathalie."

"Sir, it has nothing to do with representing your company, so I don't see why you would need to-"

"Let me see the tattoo Nathalie," he said a final time, leaning over and grabbing a wrist in case she tried to retreat.

With a sigh, Nathalie turned in the pretense of reaching for her glasses and let the sheet slip a little in the back. Gabriel didn't know what kind of art he had expected to see decorating the back of Nathalie Sancoeur, but it certainly hadn't been what he'd gotten. It was a flower, normally he would think it cliche. Lots of people got flower tattoos, but he had never before seen a flower quite like this. It was a flower, but purple butterfly and white wings were artfully arranged and drawn to mimic petals for the bloom. A flower made of butterflies. How original.

"How on earth did you come up with this?" he asked, artistic instinct causing him to reach out and delicately trace his fingers along the design, admiring the sheer artistry not only in its conception but its execution. Considering the small amount of space on Nathalie's skin it took up, it was remarkably intricate.

"I didn't not exactly," she admitted, shivering a little at the light, barely there touch, "I couldn't decide between a flower and a butterfly, so the artist suggested I do both. We were discussing ideas when I jokingly threw out a flower made of butterflies. But the artist took it to heart and began sketching like mad, the way you do when you get in a deigning frenzy," she tossed him a look from over her shoulder, "A slightly larger version of what's there now was the final result."

Something about the design hit him like a punch to the gut. A hand went to where the imaginary blow was sustained and he felt the differing texture of the metal wedding band he wore. The reason for what he was doing stared him right in the face and a wave of intense guilt washed over him. It didn't matter that he'd had very little control of what happened that had brought them into the position of sharing a bed. What mattered was that he had wanted to see the art on another woman's body, art that could only be viewed when she was in a state of undress. He was a man with very little scruples, with very little he held as a reason to act like a decent human being. But his wife, she always had brought out the best in him, even now.

"I'm sorry," he said as he pulled away.

The good thing about Nathalie was that she got him in a way very similar to how his wife had. The only difference being that Mrs. Agreste's understanding had come with romantic connection and Nathalie's came from the perspective of a kindred spirit. And even if she didn't understand, she didn't try to pry.

"Sir, there's nothing to apologize for," she said, "Except perhaps exercising a little bit more caution when choosing your next victim? I don't want a repeat of today."

"I think I can do that."

"Thank you sir," she nodded, fixing her hair into a bun and searching around for her clothes. Considering that this was his house and he could do whatever he damn well pleased Gabriel simply lounged in the bed, "Now all we need is to leave without-"

"Father!" Adrien called, "I'm home!"

"Anyone seeing," Nathalie breathed through her nose with her eyes shut. It was a universal symbol of the feeling 'just my luck'.

"Father?" Adrien's voice echoed throughout the cavernous mansion. "Nathalie?"

There was an unspoken conversation between the two of them in which they discussed what they could do not to raise the boy's suspicions and get out without anything incriminating them. Eventually Gabriel ended the discussion by pressing a button on the nearby intercom which let his voice echo back to Nathalie's desk where Adrien was wandering.

"Nathalie and I are engaged in an important meeting Adrien," he said as though there was nothing out of the ordinary, which was absolutely, emphatically _not_ the truth, "We should be finished about ten minutes and Nathalie will check in with you then. Until such, attend to your homework in your room."

They heard the reply button buzz and then Adrien's usual obedient with the slightest note of disappointment reply, "Yes Father,"

Hurried footsteps echoed the main stairway and got fainter as the boy went further away. By this point Nathalie had managed to locate her bra and was currently hunting for her pants, the more important of the two garments.

"Sir, perhaps you should get dressed," Nathalie's tone was indifferent, but Gabriel noticed her eyes would settle anywhere else but on him. It was a stroke the the ego he hadn't been expecting, but one that pleased him all the same.

"I shall do that in just a few moments," he replied.

"And if I may sir?" she waited for his nod to continue, "Perhaps you might wish to spend a bit of time with your son? I think he would greatly appreciate it."

"And what, praytell, might I do to spend time with my son?" the problem was, though they were of the same flesh and blood Adrien and Gabriel had practically nothing in common except for the love of a woman who was no longer here. Adrien was outgoing, if not a little socially awkward, and nice, and emotional. Gabriel was perhaps the antithesis of all those traits.

"Perhaps you could walk him through your design process sometime," Nathalie suggested, "I am uncertain of how good he is at art, but it would be an effort and when his desire for attention is satisfied he's less likely to act out."

"I'll see what I can do providing you clear a spot on my schedule."

"If you say so sir."

They finished dressing and headed out of the bedroom. Only for Adrien to catch them right in the act of doing so. His cheeks were red, and he was utterly embarrassed. Having lived in the mansion for so long he knew what rooms were where. And watching your father come out of a bedroom with his personal assistant, the two of them adjusting and straightening their clothes. There was really only one conclusion to jump to.

"I-" he squeaked, voice weak with shock and embarrassment, and perhaps a little rage buried deep down, "You said it would be ten minutes and it's been fifteen. I got a little worried so I-"

He couldn't go on. Words, the thought process to make them. All mental faculties were abandoning them at the moment.

But quick as ever Nathalie came up with an excuse that was reasonable, plausible, and while not the entire truth, it told more truth than the assumption the boy was drawing.

"Your father wanted to redecorate this room and asked me to take notes," Nathalie told him, "Unfortunately that was when the akuma decided to strike the city, we were trapped in agony on the floor, too weak and sick to get up. I'm sure you can recall how much good rolling around on the floor can do to your _own_ clothes."

"I- yes," Adrien mumbled, "Are you guys okay?"

"Of course, our egos are a little bruised and our clothing will need to be laundered, but we're otherwise fine. Ladybug's miraculous cure took care of the symptoms."

"Oh... alright," Adrien accepted the excuse, "I'll just, get ready for-"

"A moment Adrien," Gabriel broke in.

"Yes Father?"

"I have asked Nathalie to clear a spot in my schedule this week, so that I could teach you a bit about the design process."

Adrien's face fell, though he tried not to let it. He was still spending time with his father after all, "What about it?"

"I figured you and I would take the time to sketch and draw. Is that not alright?" Gabriel raised a brow at his progeny.

"No!" Adrien was quick to deny, "That sounds wonderful. I- I look forward to it Father."

With a nod the golden-haired boy darted off to make sure he had all the supplies necessary for the next activity he would need to attend, mollified by the excuse and the promise of spending some father-son bonding time.

"I see what you mean," Gabriel said once they were back in his office, where Nathalie retrieved her shoes and put them back on. Thank goodness the boy hadn't looked down, the missing shoes likely wouldn't have been so easy to explain away.

"Sir?" Nathalie asked.

"Spending time with him, it does seem to make his day doesn't it?"

"You sound as if you never knew that."

"Well most of his time was spent with-" he stopped himself, still too deeply hurt to even utter her name. Gabriel cleared his throat, "You've known for many years how busy a man I am."

"Of course sir,"

"See to it that nothing gets in the way of that design session with him."

"I'll be certain to Sir, will you need anything else?"

"Not at the moment Nathalie."

Nathalie gave a terse nod, "Sir," and she bowed out of the room.

Gabriel looked at the piles of work he'd had on his desk before everything went to pieces for the day. Instead of trying to get back on track though, he took out a design book he kept handy and started doodling. The pages were soon littered by dresses that looked like flowers, their petals made of butterfly wings.

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